The East Coast has lived through the most sweltering July since the dawn of time, and it has taken a toll.   Right now, we’re in a temporary reprieve, and everyone is so grateful.  But there’s also a sense of dread, because all the weathercasters assure us that another killer heatwave will soon return.

Chris and I were both born in the summer.  According to Jennifer’s Theorem, you most love the season in which you made your earthly debut.  Chris and I proved the rule:  for most of our lives, we both loved June-July-August.  The heat, the swimming pools, the tennis courts.  Vacations with friends, national parks, Rita’s Water Ice, pitchers of sun tea, Creamsicles, Phillies games, grilling outside, laundry on the clothesline, the whole she-bang.

But when yet another day dawned as another hazy-hot-and-humid scorcher, in which the ambient temperature at 7 AM broke Crock-Pot Index records, Chris said, with mild shock, “It feels so strange to say this, but I can’t wait for September.  I just want this summer to be over.”

I hastened to assure him that I felt the same way.  Feeling fickle at 50+, a traitor to my old favorite season, my new favorite months were April and September. Crisp air, blue skies, no crippling motivation-killing kiln-like heat. 

Rather than viewing this loyalty switch as traitorous, maybe it’s proof that change is still possible.

In the meantime, one of the best things about summer is the classic gin and tonic.  Here’s an appealing recipe:

Somehow a G&T looks even more refreshing when mixed in a Mason jar.  Why is that?

What are your favorite parts of summer?  Remind me, please.
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